Page 124 of The Betrothal

I looked at the labels, both of them benzodiazepines. More sedatives.

“We can start with these, any enhanced treatments would need to come through the clinic, but they will get things moving – when you are ready, Mr Fairchild.” The next set of tablets were placed into Teddy’s hands and he tucked them into his suit trousers.

I waited for either of them to expand further, they didn’t.

The doctor excused himself, Teddy lowering himself to perch on the edge of my bed, a contemplative look overshadowing the fury that had been there but that still shifted underneath.

He snatched up a bottle, taking out a pill then a second.

He reached out, palm open, offering me the drugs.

Waiting.

Unsteadily, I took the tablets from him, my fingers glancing over his palm as little as I could manage, but my responding shudder was visible and the sharp thing glinting in Teddy’s eyes flared.

I placed them cautiously on my tongue and accepted the offered water, swallowing it down under his steady observation.

“I’m nipping out for a short while.” He had calmed, though he sounded displeased. “I’ll be moving in next door, until the wedding.”

I said nothing.

His brow creased and he sighed.

The door opening once more interrupted the painful interaction and my mother bustled inside. She gave me her most disapproving glare while Teddy excused himself and left me to my next scolding.

“Ungrateful woman,” she admonished. “Disgusting behaviour. Your father and I were worried sick. How could you?”

“Please, Mother.” My head had begun to swim.

“Don’t you ‘please, Mother’ me, Isabelle. You’re a disgrace,” she spat. “The tales your father and the Fairchilds have had to spin. Why he didn’t abandon you, I will never know. You are extremely lucky.”

My scoff had her aghast.

“That boy loves you, and frankly, Isabelle, you make that extremely difficult. So, it is about time you counted your blessings.”

I clapped my hand to my head as if holding it steady on the outside would stop the inside from swirling.

“I’ll talk to Father?” I offered.

“You’ll do no such thing. You won’t be seeing your father, nor anyone else, for the foreseeable future.” She took up the tablets, reading the labels. “About time.”

I turned to her, my look of horror no doubt softened by the exhaustion overcoming me.

I curled over onto the cushion putting my mother to my back. I didn’t have the energy for this; my heart ached too heavily for her abuse.

“Frankly, if it were my choice, I’d give you a few weeks in Cliffedge,” she snipped.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mother, Cliffedge?” I mumbled. “The institution?”

Her laugh was hollow and cruel. “Oh, Isabelle, there are two reasons, and two reasons only, that you aren’t already institutionalised. Something I believe would be perfectly appropriate to give you the adjustment you need to your perspective.”

I groaned, willing myself to argue but finding an absence of the ability to speak.

“The first being your father’s absolute refusal to endure any more embarrassment of your making.”

A sliver of my broken heart shattered further.

“The second being it would interfere with the wedding date, and absolutely nothing, Isabelle, will delay that now.”